A Special Smile
by MadsterAwesome
Summary: Peeta and Katniss are sitting in her room, drawing in her parents plant book, when Katniss starts to feel something again for Peeta...


"Peeta..."

Peeta looks up from the flower he's painting in my family's plant book. His blue eyes sparkle from the light drifting in from the open window, framed with curling blond eyelashes. "Yeah?" he asks curiously.

I gulp and just shake my head, taking a sip of the lukewarm tea my mother had brought up a few minutes ago. I'm not entirely sure what I was going to say to him. I just felt like... I don't know. I really have been enjoying sitting together in my room, drawing, writing, adding to my father and mother's plant book. Being with him this much made me start to feel shy and uncertain. I realize once again that I don't know very much about the boy with the bread.

I glance up at his bent figure. His legs are crossed, but his large body takes up half of the bed we're sitting on together. He's very careful, as he always is, not to nudge my sprained ankle, though. He's hunched around the book he's drawing in. His hand moves in graceful, long strokes, showing his confidence in everything he draws. I admire him for this. The only thing I feel like I'm talented at is hunting, and that's illegal. Sometimes I wish I possessed a talent that could bring such beauty into the world.

After staring for a minute, Peeta glances up and catches my stare. He grins and chuckles, "What?"

I smile shyly and look away, "Nothing," a pause, "You're really good, you know."

"Good at what? Painting?" he asks, his eyes fluttering down to the wild, edible plant he's just finished.

"Yeah, painting."

"Thanks, I guess decorating the cakes helped, but it seems like more of a natural talent thing. You know? Like, if I had had the chance before now to paint, it probably would've come just as easily as it does now."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," I pause for a moment, then continue, "It's kind of like that when I sing."

I feel Peeta's eyes trained on me, but I don't meet them. It's difficult for me to talk about singing because it so directly relates to both my father and the time we spent in the arena. A painful subject for both of us. But Peeta simply replies, "Really?" in an inviting tone.

I nod, avoiding his gaze, "Sometimes my father would come back from the mines whistling a tune we didn't recognize. He'd then spend the rest of the afternoon teaching me the notes and words to the new song. They were good times. I miss them."

I look over to Peeta who is nodding, "Your father sounds like an amazing man."

I nod my head, unable to say much more. My throat is starting to constrict, choking me up. I think Peeta notices I'm feeling sad and he reaches over and squeezes my hand. It's comforting. I haven't felt this close to Peeta since the Games.

I look over and make eye contact with him. I see an emotion run through his clear, blue eyes, but I'm not entirely sure what it is. Longing?

"Katniss...," Peeta begins, "I know we... What I mean... Oh, never mind," he turns his gaze back to the book, flipping to another page.

I look at him curiously. Peeta is the one who always knows what to say and how to say it. "What is it, Peeta?"

He shakes his head as he's drawing, "It's stupid. It's nothing. I just... Can't think of how to say it."

We remain quiet for a few long moments until I break the silence saying, "Please try," as endearingly as I can.

He looks into my gray eyes, as if checking to see if I'm telling the truth or just messing with him. He sighs deeply and shrugs his shoulders, "I just... I've missed you, to be honest, Katniss. Spending this time with you... It means a lot to me. So, thank you."

My eyes widen a little in surprise initially, but I then relax into a smile, "Same here," I reply.

Now it's his turn to be surprised, "Really?"

I nod, "Yeah," I think about all the times I said things in the games for food. How Peeta had no competition, how I loved him. So when I say this next statement, I know, in my heart, I'm saying it for me, "I've missed you, too."

Peeta's wrinkled brow smooths as his face turns into the smiling boy I knew in the Games. The same smile he had on the riverbank, wounded. But a little different. This smile was my smile. The Boy with the Bread's smile that he saves just for me. And I don't know how I feel about that.

But I think I might possibly enjoy it.


End file.
